The futility of existence is evident
To serve without purpose is the human condition
A thousand generations grovelling
Adherent to the hollow dreams of others
Arbitrary paths to insignificance
Trivial achievements praised, generic prosperity
Abundance for the spineless
Civilized like vermin
Mediocrity puts food in the mouths of the common
On their knees with their heads in the trough
The fortunate hold contempt as they consume, sh** and breed
Flaunting their offspring like material accessories
Rewards for the d**h of innovation
A lack of direction precedes the will to create
The myth of freedom sedates them
Yet terrified by the concept of a free man
To toil or starve, to beg or die
Poverty for the pure is the price of honesty
Submit or be left for dead
Our honour keeps us cold and hungry
Destitute in resistance
To question is decadent
To survive is to serve without purpose
Striving for a purpose, dying without cause